


Murphy's Law

by fire_is_my_happy_place



Series: TF2 prompts and drabbles [1]
Category: TF2 - Fandom
Genre: First Time, Interrupted, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4810433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_is_my_happy_place/pseuds/fire_is_my_happy_place
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic in response to prompt: 72 hours between discovering tumors in bread and bread attack (Expiration Date)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murphy's Law

The RED Spy rolled his eyes at the Scout’s crude joke, and pulled his cigarette case from his breast pocket. Selecting a cigarette, he said, “See you all in hell.”

The RED Demo walked past the grumbling mass of mercenaries to his room. If he had days to live, there were several things he needed to do. He pawed through his drawers, pulling out his favorite kilt, a thermal shirt, and knee socks. Shrugging his bandolier off, he looked at it wistfully, then hung it over a chair. He dropped his uniform as he took it off, then stared at the messy pile it made before putting it down gently on the bed.

“I didnae expect ta like yeh,” he told it quietly. “But parts of this have been grand.”

Dressing like a civilian, he gave his hair a quick comb with his fingers and grabbed his wallet. The Engineer stopped him in the garage, on his way back to the teleporter they’d set up years ago.

“Sure you want to do that, Tavish?”

The RED Demo shrugged. “It willnae make this worse, Tex.”

With those words, he stepped onto the teleporter, emerging on the tarred roof of the liquor store, where they’d bribed the cashiers to leave it alone. A ladder put him in an alley between the store and bar. If he was going to die, he was damn well going to get laid before he went. Pasting what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face, he walked into the bar.

He sat at a booth and looked around at the place for the last time. One of the few places in town they’d all agreed on, it was a dive whose sole charms were cheap drinks and taciturn drinkers. The floor was sticky, the furniture was repaired with duct tape, and the owner was tolerant of bar fights, thanks to large cash infusions from both RED and BLU. The plastic aliens, battered Route 66 signs, and Day-Glo lizards merely made them all laugh.

He heard someone clear their throat and looked over at the waitress. “Hey, Tavish,” she said. “Starting a bit early this Friday?”

He eyed the bottle-blonde in front of him. He’d never found her attractive, but the situation made him reconsider it. “Afternoon, lass. How’re yeh?”

She shrugged. “Can’t complain. It’s a slow afternoon. What’re you having?”

He looked around. Even the regular bar flotsam had washed up elsewhere. “Everything,” he said, turning his eyes back to the woman in front of him, her hand on a denim-clad hip. “Bring meh everything.”

She did. By the time Tavish had reached the drinks starting with an r, the room was sliding glassily around him, the low murmur of people becoming the sound of ocean waves.

“One moar,” he slurred. “Then I’ll have a go at it.”

Someone sat down next to him with a thump, and Tavish turned slowly. The BLU Demo sat next to him, flicking his braids back behind his ears.

“You’ve had tha news,” he said eyeing the tension on Tavish’s face. “Me, too.”

Tavish snarled, a habitual expression that faded quickly. “Aye, I have.” He considered his BLU counterpart. “Have yeh come ta drink and fuck, too?”

The BLU Demo snorted a laugh. “Aye. I saw yeh sitting and thought I might as well have a drink with yeh.” He glanced at the mass of glassware in front of the RED Demo. “I’ll just have ta catch up.” He waved over a waitress.

“Bring us a bottle of Scotch,” the BLU Demo said. “Nicest thing yeh got.” He turned to Tavish. “Suppose I can tell yeh my name now, since it doesnae matter. I’m Brennan.” He held out his hand. With a short pause, the RED Demo took it.

“Tavish,” he said, and shook it once. Brennan’s hand lingered momentarily on his and Tavish blinked, startled.

Brennan set to work on the Scotch like the doomed man he was. Several hours later, Tavish had sobered up slightly and Brennan was drunk enough to slur. Tavish realized his opponent was hilarious, barbed descriptions of the bar and people in it sending them both into loud gales of laughter. When Brennan moved slightly closer, Tavish let him. At a lull in the conversation, Brennan looked over, leaning on his elbows.

“Yeh know what I havenae done in a long time? I havenae got in a bar fight. But why not?” Brennan’s jaw thrust out belligerently, and Tavish realized he was watching his counterpart’s lips entirely too closely. Tavish blinked and looked away before realizing what Brennan had said.

“Sounds good,” he said. “Who should we fight?”

Brennan focused on something behind Tavish’s shoulder. “Why don’t we start with that collection o’ bastards over there? They’ve been eyeing us for tha last hour.”

Tavish turned, swaying slightly. Behind him, a small group of men stared at them both angrily. Tavish grinned and turned back to Brennan. “We’ve fought that group before. They called Medic a faggot in front of tha Heavy. That was a glorious fight. Surprised they’re looking ta go again.”

Brennan leaned in, his breath hot and sweet against Tavish’s face. “If I kissed yeh, do yeh think they’d try ta do something aboot it?”

Before Tavish could respond, Brennan’s lips briefly brushed his. They were shockingly soft. Tavish took a breath, wide-eyed. Someone in the group of men behind them said “faggot” loudly enough for the entire bar to hear. The bartender and waitresses all ran for the back room. Brennan grinned.

“Now we can have that fight,” he said triumphantly, and stood, throwing an empty glass over Tavish’s head.

**< <<<\---->>>>**

Four black eyes, several loose teeth, bruised and bleeding knuckles, what might be cracked ribs, and a few thousand dollars in property damage later, Brennan and Tavish staggered out of the bar, leaning on each other and everything they passed. Tavish touched the swollen, hot lumps on his face with a wince.

“That’s going ta hurt when I sober up,” he announced.

Brennan flourished the remains of the Scotch at him. “Yeh donnae have ta do that just yet. I’m too pissed ta drive, are yeh?”

Tavish nodded. “Donnae tell yer mates, but weh set up a tele.”

“So did weh. Yer place or mine?”

Tavish thought about his messy room. “Best ta be yoors.”

Brennan linked arms with Tavish and they both staggered a block away, to an abandoned building. Inside, a suspiciously modern and secure door guarded a small room with the teleporter in it. Brennan went first, leaving Tavish standing, looking at the device. For a moment, he thought about doing to it what he would normally do to a BLU device, then stepped onto it.

Coming out of the teleporter, he fell into Brennan’s arms. Brennan chuckled. “Our Engineer doesnae think it’s worth fixing tha spin.”

Tavish looked up at his opponent, at the small smile on his lips and the way his t shirt clung to his upper body. One of Brennan’s braids slid down from behind his ear, but the man waited, patiently holding Tavish. _If I didnae know better_ , Tavish thought, _I’d think yeh were_ …

His thought was cut off by Brennan gently righting him. Tavish realized he was blushing, his face hot from bruises and embarrassment. Brennan retrieved the bottle of Scotch from a nearby table and gestured.

“Come on.”

Brennan’s room was just as messy as Tavish’s, piles of clothing, wires, timers, and tools scattered on every available surface. Brennan plunked himself on his bed, leaving Tavish to decide where he would sit. Tavish pulled the desk chair close to the bed, and Brennan pulled it closer. Tavish sat and eyed his opponent.

Summoning his courage, Tavish spoke. “Are yeh trying ta…”

Brennan grinned brazenly, eyes wandering to the edge of Tavish’s kilt. “I always did admire yeh on the field.”

Tavish’s blush went from warm to blazing, his face throbbing.

Brennan chuckled. “Donnae tell meh this is yer first time.” His eyes narrowed. “It is, isnae?” When Tavish didn’t answer, Brennan bit his lower lip. “That throws a wrench in it, it does.”

“I’ve nae tried,” Tavish said shyly. “But I’m nae against it.”

Brennan reached out slowly for Tavish’s hand and when he didn’t resist, drew him down until Tavish was laying beside him. “If it helps,” Brennan murmured before leaning in, “close yer eyes and pretend I’m a lass.”

Brennan’s lips were patient, slowly opening as his stubble tickled Tavish’s lips and chin. Tavish found it overwhelming, the contrast between soft and prickly that became forceful and wet as the kiss went on. His arms crept around Brennan’s neck, caressing, and Brennan’s arms slid around him, pressing them together. A small part of Tavish noticed that Brennan was hard, and the familiar feeling of blood pooling in his cock shocked him into pulling back.

Brennan’s eyes were fat-lidded, his lips swollen. He waited, watching Tavish, who took a breath and looked down. Moving slowly, Brennan brushed his fingers across Tavish’s cock.

“I donnae think yer up ta tha full Monty,” Brennan said, “but if yeh’ll let meh, I can make yeh happy.”

Tavish didn’t trust his voice, but nodded. Brennan smiled and slid down, rolling the kilt up in his hands. Pushing Tavish onto his back, Brennan laid down between Tavish’s legs. Tavish closed his eyes, anticipation colored with fear and surprise—he wasn’t sure what kind of man he was anymore, a line he thought made in stone surprisingly easy to cross.

Brennan’s mouth was exquisite, from the wet strength of his tongue to the smoothness at the back of his palate. Tavish’s head tossed on the pillow, fingers tangled in the sheets. His voice grew hoarser as he snarled obscenities and prayers in several languages. Tavish went silent as he came, body curving up off the bed. Brennan licked him clean, and then sat up.

Tavish lay there panting for a moment, eyes wild. “That was…“

Brennan smiled, lips swollen and chin wet. Tavish sat up and reeled him in to a kiss, tasting himself on Brennan’s tongue. With a yank, Tavish flipped them both over and knelt between Brennan’s legs. “I want ta try,” he said breathlessly.

They quickly yanked Brennan’s jeans and boxers off. Tavish looked down at him, hesitant, wondering if he could do it. As he watched, Brennan twitched himself.

“It willnae bite yeh,” he said, voice skipping with laughter.

Tavish wrapped his hand and then his lips around Brennan’s cock despite the throb of his cut lip, tasting musk and sweat-salt. While Brennan moaned encouragingly, Tavish concentrated on exploring Brennan’s cock with his tongue, running it under the head and tugging to make Brennan moan louder. He rolled his eyes up to see Brennan staring down at him, sweat glistening on his face. Curious, Tavish sucked Brennan’s cock as far down his throat as he could, watching Breannan’s eyes go glassy as he gagged. Tavish pulled back to breathe and chuckled, pleased. Brennan’s hands dug into the edges of the mattress with the vibration of Tavish’s laughter on his cock and he took a stuttering breath.

The door slammed open, the BLU Scout yelling through it, “Hey Brennan, got any….”

They all froze, staring. After a few seconds, the BLU Scout backed out of the room wordlessly, face scarlet. Brennan swore and Tavish sat up, embarrassed.

“I’m going tae put explosives on meh door,” Brennan snarled, stomping to it and slamming it closed. Looking at Tavish, he said gently. “I promise that won’t happen twice.”

After a moment, Tavish started laughing. Brennan’s expression was as much host at a tea party gone wrong as it was sexually frustrated. “Brennan, meh lad,” he finally said, “has it occurred to yeh that if it could go wrong tonight, it has?”

Brennan’s lips quirked. “If it makes yeh feel better, tha boy is shocked out of his head.”

Tavish laughed so hard he snorted. Brennan stopped him with a kiss.


End file.
